clara arrived in good ol' black and ballet pink, with open toed sandals. 'you know the drill,' said sandy's mom on the way out. inwardly, clara smirked. she did indeed know the drill.

sandy was working on his studies when clara peeked her head around the corner into the door. 'hey sandy!' beamed clara. 'hiya clara.. gimme five minutes and i'll be right out.' 'okay!' after he finished the last of that danged math, he called for clara, who appeared in a heartbeat at his front, carrying a bag with another pair of tights. she handed them to sandy, who, by now, didn't mind her watching him put them on, since she got a thrill from that. he sat down on the bed and put his legs out in front. clara slipped out of her shoes, sat next to him, and they played some serious footsie, with clara running all sides of her feet up and down sandy's soles. she moved over a bit so she could rub his soles on her. all the while, the familiar feeling of tights-clad feet rubbing together was carrying the two of them over the top, and they knew this was only just the beginning.